George and Martha
by Voidfish
Summary: Percy comes to a (very Seaweed-Brained) realization about the snakes on Hermes' cacadeus. Annabeth, who just wants to finish her book in peace, is having none of it.
**AN: This was the first fanfic I ever wrote, so although it's not that good, it's being shared for memory purposes.**

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"Annabeth!" Percy exclaimed. I looked over to him from my spot on the couch, only mildly curious at his outburst. Upon seeing his goofy grin, I mentally braced myself for the worse. I knew that when I was on the receiving end of Percy's random outbursts, trouble was almost _certain_ to follow.

"What is it this time?" I asked with a sigh.

"I've just got it!"

"Can you be a little more specific, please?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at how deliberately vague he was being. We were in the apartment we shared in New Rome, and Percy was flipping through his History textbook as if it held the answers to all of life's questions—or maybe just his mom's recipe for blue chocolate-chip cookies. Then again, the two were equally important to Percy, so you never knew.

Or at least Percy _had_ been flipping through the textbook, right up until his exclamation. I knew he was scrambling to complete his essay on demigods' role in the Revolutionary War so he would pass with a low B. I may or may not have had a hand in his unusual efforts this semester. What can I say? It wasn't _my_ fault that the threat of no Netflix for a month proved to be an effective motivator!

But I had to admit that Percy was pushing his luck with this one. The essay in question was only half completed—and due in thirty-five minutes, hence the scrambling.

 _Seaweed Brain_ , I thought, half out of exasperation and half out of fondness.

Since I had finished _my_ essay five days ago, I was trying to finish my book before class. And, unfortunately for Percy, he had interrupted me right in the middle of a high-stakes fight scene, meaning I didn't pay him or his "discovery" as much attention as I normally would have.

"George and Martha," Percy replied.

"Who?" I frowned absently as I tried to assign faces to the names, my mind still on the book in my lap. I wanted to read, not play ' _20 Questions'_!

"George and Martha!" Percy repeated more insistently, as if I should know who they were.

Could he be talking about two demigods we had rescued and brought to Camp? No, I didn't think that was it _._ But who else could he be—oh. I finally made the connection. "Percy?" I asked tentatively. "Just to be clear, we _are_ talking about the snakes on Hermes' caduceus, right? Does this have _anything_ to do with your essay?!"

"Uh huh!" Percy confirmed, shoving his textbook under my nose—and on top of my book, dang it. Before I could protest, Percy had started to speak again. "And the snakes on Hermes' staff are George and Martha Washington, see?"

Reluctantly, I set my book down with a last longing look. "Percy..."

Seeing that I had closed my book, Percy grinned at his success. "Do you think I'm right, then? Are George and Martha—"

"No, probably not." I cut in before he could ask another question.

"Aw, why not?" Percy pleaded—no, this was full-blown _pouting_. He was sticking out his lower lip, the poor, pitiful child.

"Well, it's just not very _likely_. We know for certain that the gods were in America by 1731—George Washington, son of Athena, was born in 1732—but if the myths on the subject are to be believed, Hermes acquired his caduceus long before then."

After all, we were living proof that at least _some_ of the myths were true. And— Oh, dang it. He was giving me those puppy-dog eyes again. You know, the ones that should be illegal because they're _impossible_ to resist? Yeah. Those ones. I swear, Percy could make the monsters go vegetarian with those eyes... ha. As if. This wasn't _Twilight_ ,for the gods' sakes!

And I was getting off topic again. So, so off topic.

Dam ADHD.

"It could still be a possibility, though," I admitted begrudgingly. Stupid eyes.

Percy grew excited again. "Really? So I was right then?"

I was getting a little annoyed now. "I don't know, Percy. Why don't you go ask Hermes yourself if it means so much to you?"

I was about to return to my book when I noticed that Percy had stood up and was pulling his arms through the sleeves of his favorite blue sweatshirt. "Percy, what do you think you're doing?" I questioned, almost not wanting to know the answer. It was undoubtedly something Seaweed-Brained, coming from him.

Percy didn't disappoint as he blinked at me innocently with a small shrug. "I'm going to go talk to Hermes, Annie! I just have to go and get a rat for George, that's all. Then I'll be all set!"

My lips formed words without my permission. "Percy! You can't just do that! What about—"

"Oh. You're probably right about that!" Percy interrupted me.

Really, I was just relieved he had been dissuaded. But the sense of relief I felt faded when Percy spoke again, saying, "I should bring _Martha_ a rat, too!"

Okay, that was _so_ not what I meant.

Of course he was going to go and talk to Hermes, two rats in tow. Of course. It was Percy, after all. I pushed aside the part of my brain screaming, _"What exactly does he think he's doing, calling me Annie?"_ and finally managed to close my mouth.

I first considered arguing with him, but I dismissed the idea almost immediately. As any cheesy alien Blockbuster would say, resistance was futile. Instead, I figured a change of subject was in order—and I just so happened to have the perfect subject, one that, really, Percy had brought on to himself.

"Percy," I pointed out. "You know that our History class is in twenty-four minutes and you only have _half_ of your essay done, right?"

"Di immortales!" Percy cursed, practically _running_ back to his half-open textbook. The subject had been dropped—for now.


End file.
